


Storms Come In All Shapes And Sizes

by Somniare



Category: Midsomer Murders
Genre: Angst, Gen, hurt/self-comfort, no not like that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-09
Updated: 2014-11-09
Packaged: 2018-02-24 16:37:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2588621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Somniare/pseuds/Somniare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A storm was brewing somewhere over the horizon, but Troy doubted it was as violent as the one inside him right now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Storms Come In All Shapes And Sizes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tetsubinatu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tetsubinatu/gifts).



> To help me find words for Mini Wrimo over on LJ, I asked for prompts to write to, as my muse is being wayward. This is from one of them.  
> Thanks to tetsubinatu for the prompt, and to barcardivodka for a quick beta. It's been tinkered with a teeny bit since its return.  
> I own nothing except the errors.

 

* * *

 

Troy stood at his kitchen window.  His fingers were wrapped loosely around a half-full tumbler resting on the draining board.  He had never seen so many shades of pink, orange, purple, and grey streak the sky.  A storm was brewing somewhere over the horizon, but Troy doubted it was as violent as the one inside him right now.  Night was coming quickly and would soon envelop the last traces of the day and the setting sun; with only a new moon about, maybe it would even hide the storm clouds.  He wished the darkness could remove the horribly lingering vestiges of his day so completely.  
  
He swirled the cloudy contents of his glass before downing it in three quick gulps.  
  
He tried and failed to hold down the burp that followed, fearful it would be so much more, and screwed up his face at the bitter aftertaste which welled up.  He contemplated getting a beer to wash it away.  But that couldn't cure what ailed him right now.  With his luck, it would be the catalyst that finished him off.  
  
He picked up the foil packet from the worktop.  He'd been both surprised and relieved to find it, still usable, at the back of his bathroom cabinet.  _Best stick with this._   It had never failed him before, though it had been a long time since he'd needed it, since he'd felt this chaotic inside.  
  
As he dropped the second dose into the glass and filled it with water, Troy swore it was the last time he'd be a guinea pig for one of Mrs Barnaby's 'creative kitchen endeavours'.  It was going to take a lot more than Alka Seltzer before his stomach calmed tonight.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Written for this prompt: Troy watches the sun set after a really long, crappy day.


End file.
